A Little Story About a Boy Named Johnny C
by Nee Dot Remains
Summary: My short, odd attempt at a version of the old 'Why Johnny is the way he is'
1. This Poster Goes on This Wall

**A Little Story About a Boy Named Johnny C.**

By Nee Dot Remains

+(o)+ 

**Disclaimer**: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and all related characters and such does not belong to me, it belongs to Mr. Jhonen Vasquez. But considering this is the Jhonen Vasquez section you already knew that. So please continue.

+(o)+ 

** +CHAPTER+ONE+ **

It was late at night. At least, considered late by any number of people with normal sleeping habits. Hell, it could be considered late by those who have horrid sleeping habits. But for a boy named Johnny C., it was not late, for he had no sleeping habits. He had non-sleeping habits. Johnny sat on the floor of his bedroom and stared. He stared at his movie posters, and his comic collection, and other random possessions one might normally have in his or her room. _'Something is wrong'_ he thought to himself as he stood to stretch out his legs, for he had been sitting there for quite some time. _'This poster does not go on this wall, but on this one.' _Johnny pointed to show himself this mistake. He began to set out on a quest to retrieve a chair from the dining room to fix this problem, when he spotted another poster out of place.

"Hmmmm..." Said he as he took a step back to examine his walls as a whole. "I believe somebody has been in my room."

_+That's right Johnny. We have been in your room. I think the balance is better with your Edward Gizzardhands poster on the wall next to you window. Don't you agree+_

"Yes, yes. I do see it now. Very nice! I-" Johnny stopped and shook his head.

"Don't try to get me to talk to you by doing nice things. Mom says I need to stop talking to you. Mom says you'll hurt me. I know mom is right, because she's a psychiatrist. She said that if I make you go away I won't have to take that disgusting medicine anymore. So... ummm... go away."

_+Ohh, now Johnny-boy, I would never hurt you. I just want to be friends! Hello, I'm Mr. Fuck. See? That wasn't so bad.+_

"That's a bad word. You shouldn't say that. I'm going to go get the soap. Ummm... though I don't know where I'd put it."

Johnny crossed the room to his bed. He arranged the pillows against the wall and flopped against them.

_+Nny, do you remember your father+_

"Don't call me that. Only mom can. And she said he's gone away."

Mr. Fuck laughed and it echoed around in Johnny's head. It's an odd sound having a voice in your head. Like sitting in a tube at MacDougal's play area and speaking aloud.

_+You're mother told your father to leave. She didn't want him to interfere.+_

"What are you talking about Mr. F-" Johnny paused and thought for a moment before asking. "May I call you Mr. Eff?"

_+Sure, sure. Now, why do you think I'm here? I'm here because your mom wants to turn you into a mindless zombie.+_

Johnny laughed and grabbed the pillow next to him, throwing and catching and throwing and catching.

"Zombies don't exist Mr. Eff. Zombies are only in movies. Mom said so. You lie a lot. You shouldn't do that either."

_+How do you know your mom isn't lying+_

Johnny missed the pillow and it fell onto the floor. _'What if mom_ does _lie? Nooo... she wouldn't. Would she? No. Never. Mr. Eff is the liar.'_

_+I'm not lying Johnny. Your mom is and you-+_

"STOP IT!" Johnny stood up and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Mom mom isn't lying! She Isn't!"

Mrs. C. scrambled into the room.

"I told you to make him go away..." She went to her son and hugged him. He was crying now and the sleeve of her sweater was littered with spots

** +END+CHAPTER+ONE+ **

Hello all you readers,

This is my first story in a _very_ long time. I hope the next chapter will be much better than this one. Sorry if anything is misspelled. I'm not very good at spelling. Oh, I never did mention this, but Johnny is about nine years old here. I tried to make it show a bit. I dearly hope it worked...

Toodles,

**Nee Dot**


	2. From Holy Sonnets

**A Little Story About a Boy Named Johnny C.**

By Nee Dot Remains

+(o)+ 

**Disclaime**r: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and all related characters and such does not belong to me, it belongs to Mr. Jhonen Vasquez. But considering this is the Jhonen Vasquez section of you already knew that. So please continue.

+(o)+ 

** +CHAPTER+TWO+ **

_Death, be not proud, though some have called thee_

_Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;_

_For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow_

_Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me._

_From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,_

_Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,_

_And soonest our best men with thee do go,_

_Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery._

_Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,_

_And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,_

_And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well_

_And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?_

_One short sleep past, we wake eternally,_

_And death shall be no more; **Death, thou shalt die.**_

+From Holy Sonnets by John Donne+

+Six+Years+Later+ 

Johnny C, now fifteen years old, sat in the center of his bed staring out the window. The blinds were pulled up so that he could see out. Unfortunately, he couldn't see much, as they lived in a city. He saw a few houses and a black sky. The street lamp in front of the house flickered on and off. On and off.

"Nny! It's time for dinner."

Johnny sighed and reached for the string at the top of the blinds. Slowly bringing them down. He didn't want to talk to his mom. They had been in a fight earlier. But he _was _hungry. He stood up and scanned his room before closing the door. A habit he's had for a very long time.

In the dining room his mom was setting the plates on the table. They were having spaghetti. Again. _'Is it just me, or does every American family have spaghetti every other week? Or more? That's fucking stupid.'_ Johnny sat down across from his mom and silently picked up the fork and twirled it in the pasta.

"Nny, I want to talk to you about what we are going to do about your detention. This is serious."

"Mom! I told you to _stop_ calling my Nny; I'm _not_ a kid anymore. And I _also_ told you that it wasn't my fault! Mark pushed me into the wall first and called me a fag. It's not like I could get away without swinging." Johnny re-told the whole story with a lot of animated gestures. Johnny's mom just sighed and gave him a stern look.

"Violence is never the answer. There are other ways to handle these things."

"If violence is never then what is? You can't always talk it out! Believe me, I'd rather negotiate but Mark certainly didn't want to."

"Nny… you don't understand." She sighed and ate a bite of spaghetti.

"Don't- ugh… whatever, mom." He got up with his plate and went to his room.

SLAM.

Mrs. C looked down at his empty seat before continuing to eat.

"God, I cannot _stand_ that woman! 'Oh, I am a psychiatrist, I know everything about anything!' Bullshit! Jeezus." Johnny was sprawled out on his bed; face down cursing into the pillow. He turned his head to the side to get some air. He looked at the clock. It read 7:45PM in red glowing letters.

"… Fuck. I missed my show."

He sat up and stared off into his room. _'I know she's lying about Randy, too. He isn't just a friend.'_ He grabbed his statue of a tiki man and threw it against the wall. It shattered into pieces._ 'I hate him. I hate them both.'_

_+I told you she was a liar.+_

** +END+CHAPTER+TWO+ **

Short isn't it? I have a tendency to make short chapters. I don't think I have ever made a long one in my life. I think my record it three pages. Oh well. Short chapters are easier to convert into comics.

It's all about that insomnia induced stupor,

**Nee Dot**


	3. Shortly Something Actually Happens

**A Little Story About a Boy Named Johnny C.**

By Nee Dot Remains

+(o)+ 

**Disclaimer**: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and all related characters and such does not belong to me, it belongs to Mr. Jhonen Vasquez. But considering this is the Jhonen Vasquez section you already knew that. So please continue.

+(o)+ 

** +CHAPTER+THREE+ **

"Shit. I thought I got rid of you three years ago."

_+Aw, I know you missed me. I just came to say that my offer to help is still on the table.+_

Johnny quietly walked to the door and peeked out to see if his mother was asleep. The heavy breathing from the next room told him that she was indeed sleeping. He shut the door and sat down at his desk.

"I really want you to just go the fuck away." He whispered. He didn't want to take any chances of waking his mother.

_+Oh come on Johnny, you know it's nice to have someone agree with you.+_

There was a pause. Not quite awkward, more like when a friend is entranced in a movie and has delayed responses because he or she doesn't want to miss a thing. Johnny leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, his hands on the desk.

"So what exactly are you proposing, Mr. Eff?"

_+I'm so glad to hear you say that. I wish I had some pamphlets for you. It's like this-+_

+LATER+THAT+NIGHT+ 

"It's done…"

_+I knew you could do it+_

"It's over…"

_+Over and done with. Yes.+_

"Yeah…"

_+Are you ready to go now? Packed all your things? … Hello? Nny+_

Johnny stood over his mother's body. A knife in his hand and covered in blood.

_+Nny are you coming or are you going to stand here gaping like a vegetable, LET'S GO.+_

Suddenly Nny wasn't such a bad name.

** +END+CHAPTER+THREE+ **

Good lord of lemon cookies that was AWFULLY short. Emphasis on awfully. Because it was short, AND awful. Oh yeah. I am so funny. Today at school I was invited to a party, but I was going to see my dad that day. I said I was going to be relatively late. Get it? Relative? Dad? Late? Aahahaa… I know, I know. Just give me my canned soup and Wheat Thins and I'll go back to my room and stop typing.

What would YOU do for a Klondike bar?

**NEE DOT**


End file.
